Forest of Shadows Page 9

  Anna squinted in the dimness. It was a boat. Or a longboat, actually. Unlike the tall, multi-decked and multi-masted ships with butterfly-wing sails in the harbor above them, this boat was sleek, and laid long and low to the ground like a canoe. It had one simple mast, and its only height came at the front and back, where its wooden planks were swept up into the graceful point of a dragon’s tail at one end, and the dragon’s fearsome teeth at the other. It took her breath away—though part of that was due to jogging with a snowman on her back.

  “This isn’t just a tunnel,” said Elsa. “I think it’s…a tumulus.”

  “Oooh. A tummy what?” Olaf asked.

  Elsa smiled, but it seemed tinged with sadness. “It’s a burial mound,” she explained. “In the long-ago days, people used to build large dirt mounds called tumuli and lay their fallen leaders in their boats, along with everything they would need to take with them into the afterlife, favorite things like bronze shields, drinking goblets, and gold coins.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Anna said, wanting to explore this unexpected treasure. She loved nothing more than answers, and a broken bit of pottery or a single glass bead from a long-ago age could tell a lot about the cultures and tales that had been lost to time.

  Later, she told herself. One more reason you have to fix what you’ve done.

  “I wish it were a real dragon,” Olaf said, interrupting Anna’s thoughts and pulling her back to the present.

  “I think a wolf is more than enough to deal with right now,” Elsa said, already holding up the lantern again and taking a few steps away.

  Kristoff nodded. “If we don’t move, this place may become a new grave site.”

  Olaf shook his head. “Poor Fredrick. I don’t think he’d like this place very much.”

  “Who’s Fredrick?” Anna asked.

  “The wolf,” Olaf said, as though it were obvious. “He looked like a Fredrick, don’t you think?”

  “I wasn’t talking about the wolf,” Kristoff said, and shrugged his traveler’s pack higher onto his shoulder. “I was talking about us.”

  They continued to move, faster now and silent. They needed to save their breath to navigate the dark and twisting shadows of the passageway. After a few minutes, Anna thought she felt the ground begin to slope upwards, but she couldn’t be sure, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

  “Do you hear that?” Elsa asked suddenly.

  Anna listened. She did hear something—a low rumbling. A sound that was almost like thunder, or what she imagined a sleeping Earth Giant’s snore would sound like, or—

  “A waterfall,” Kristoff said. “I think we’ve gone under the waters of the Arenfjord and ended up on the other side.”

  New energy quickened their steps. A few minutes later, they turned a corner to see a frothy curtain of water cascading down rock and a weak, gray not-quite-light trickling through into the tunnel. It was that time of night that wasn’t night at all, but the earliest moments of morning, the few minutes before the sun would break the line of the horizon.

  Night would soon be officially over, but…what other nightmares had Anna dreamed that could come true? Would her teeth start to fall out? Would she look down to see she was standing in only her underwear? Or maybe it would be a brand-new nightmare, one where Elsa exiled her from the kingdom once she learned about Anna’s wayward spell.

  The spell. Her stomach twisted. Anna didn’t like when secrets were kept from her, but holding her own secret made her feel like she’d eaten some of the Blight-stricken food. Now that they were leaving the tunnel, away from the wolf for at least a moment, she needed to tell Elsa. Maybe together, they could figure out a counter spell. Anna took a deep breath.

  “Elsa? I have something to tell you—”

  Elsa held up her hand. “You don’t have to say it.”

  Tilting her head, Anna squinted at her sister. “Say what?”

  “‘I told you so,’” Elsa said with a small, tired grin. “I get it. You found the passage, and it was helpful. I’m not going to say otherwise. Can we please make a truce?”

  Anna gaped at her sister, not knowing what to do. On the one hand, she was pleased that her sister seemed happy with her. But on the other…Elsa didn’t know that all of this was Anna’s fault. And while Anna wasn’t exactly lying, the more seconds that ticked by, the more uncomfortable the omission made her feel, as though she were more of a scribble of Anna than an Anna who fully filled in all her lines. She hated to keep a secret—but she was more afraid of losing her sister. Oh, now what should she do?

  But she was spared making a decision when Olaf emitted a squeal of glee directly into Anna’s ear. He jumped down from Anna’s back, and she stumbled slightly from the sudden lack of weight.

  “Hooray!” Olaf cheered. “We’re not going to die in a tummy lice!” And then he sprinted down the path. Anna’s breath caught. He wasn’t really going to run straight through a waterfall, was he? Turns out he was, because in the next second, the water pounded on Olaf’s shoulders as he waded into it.

  “Oooh! A somewhat unpleasant massage!” he said, and then the snowman was through to the other side.

  Anna heaved a sigh of relief. Sometimes when Olaf tried something new, he’d fall apart, and they’d have to take time to go looking for his arms or nose or other body parts. And there was no time to spare, not when the wolf could show up at any moment.

  Even though she didn’t think it could dig through solid rock, she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. She glanced over her shoulder for the billionth time, just to check again.

  Kristoff reached out a finger to test the temperature of the waterfall. “Yikes!” He yanked his hand away, and the tip of his finger was bright pink. “That’s ice-cold, even by my standards!”

  “Hardly,” Elsa said, examining it. “Or else it would be frozen.” She smirked.

  Kristoff made a face. “Touché.”

  “I’ve got this.” With a flourish of Elsa’s lantern-free hand, an arch of ice appeared in the middle of the falls, sending water flying into the breaking dawn and scattering rainbows everywhere.

  And as Anna walked under the arch, leaving behind the shadows of the passageway, she felt her headache lift slightly. Her stomach untwisted just a bit, too.

  Wolves did exist, yes, but so did rainbows and sisters. There had to be a way for Anna to fix her mistake. And there had to be a way she could fix it herself, without adding to Elsa’s pile of work. She just needed time—space—to think it through.

  The Earth Giant’s Passage had deposited them on a small ledge that overlooked the village, and the group paused to take count. They were all there, though Anna noted in the dim light of dawn that Olaf’s twiggy hair seemed a bit bent out of shape, and new purple crescents had appeared under Elsa’s eyes. Kristoff, too, looked bedraggled, even by his usual standards. The cold, crisp air tugged at the fabric of Anna’s attire, giving her goosebumps. She pulled her travel cloak closer around her and was thankful she hadn’t changed into pajamas.

  “I think we should warn the village,” Kristoff said, shifting his weight as Sven moved his head onto his shoulder.

  Anna’s headache returned with renewed vigor, but she tried to focus. Because Kristoff was right. “Yes! We warn the village! Tell them to stay inside!”

  Elsa shook her head. “You saw that wolf. I don’t think hiding is going to help.”

  “Then we need to tell them to get far away!” Anna said as she tried to push her loose hair out of her eyes. She wished she’d thought to grab a spare hair ribbon so that she could wrangle her hair into manageable braids, instead of letting it hang loose and tangled around her shoulders.

  “But then again, what if the wolf is there now, prowling the village?” Kristoff asked, and then switched to Sven Talk. “What if he’s already full?”

  It was almost too horrible of a thought, and Sven’s ears, which usually pricked forward, seemed to droop like a pair of discarded socks as he swayed on his hooves, looking a
s though a sneeze from Kristoff would be enough to knock him over.

  Anna glanced at her sister, waiting for her to decide what to do. But Elsa didn’t say anything. Instead, she stared out across the Arenfjord toward the castle. And even though the castle looked the same, it didn’t feel the same. Anna knew all too well that things didn’t have to look different in order to be different. One morning, she’d gone to bed having two parents. The next morning, she’d woken up an orphan.

  As she squinted at the castle, Anna caught a speck of white in the window of the guard tower. Beside her, Olaf had put his ice spectacles back on, and was staring at the castle windows as well.

  “Fredrick’s looking for us,” he said, adjusting the lenses so they sat better on his nose. “It doesn’t seem like he knows we’re gone…” Olaf lifted a hand to shield his eyes. “Oh, no, never mind. He does.”

  “How do you know?” Anna asked.

  Olaf pulled his gaze away. “Well, I think he misinterpreted why I raised my hand.”

  “What does that mean?” Elsa asked.

  “He definitely took it as a friendly wave to come and join us. Which I think is what he’s going to do.”

  “Elsa?” Anna’s voice squeaked.

  Elsa’s brow furrowed the way it always did when she was looking for something she’d misplaced, or, more likely, that Anna had removed and forgotten to put back. She seemed to be sinking deep within herself. Then, taking a deep breath, Elsa gave the lantern back to Kristoff and raised her hands, like a conductor about to direct a symphony.

  At first, Anna didn’t see any change, but then she noticed the waterfall’s roar had grown quiet. Looking behind her, Anna gasped.

  The water was no longer in the waterfall.

  Instead of trickling down the sides of the fjord and into the sea, the water was rushing upward, climbing the air as if it had been shot up from a geyser. It arced over the colored rooftops of the village below, its glittering tail reminding Anna of a comet. Her gaze followed its path to the castle, where it dipped and played around it, circling once, twice, three times, again and again until a dome of ice—seamless as an eggshell—covered the entire castle. Elsa had isolated their home inside of its own gigantic snow globe, preventing anyone from getting into the castle—but more importantly, keeping what was already there inside.

  She lowered her hands. Her pink cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled. Anna had always thought creating ice with magic seemed like it should be exhausting, like trying to run up a mountain in ten seconds, but Elsa always seemed the most Elsa after she’d wielded her magic. And she was only getting better at it with each passing day.

  “That was beautiful,” Kristoff said, awe making his voice sound more solemn than usual, and Anna understood exactly how he felt.

  “Thanks.” Elsa bit her lip. “I just hope it holds the wolf. Now, we need to go warn the villagers, and get them to safety—just in case.”

  Anna nodded her head in agreement, tearing her eyes away from the ice-domed castle. Elsa was right. They would go to the village, and then maybe she could—

  But Anna’s thoughts jumbled up like crooked teeth as she looked away from the dome and back at her friends. The first true ray of morning sun had not just illuminated the beauty of Elsa’s creation; it had also brought to light something else: an unmistakable smattering of white in Sven’s dun coat.

  The Blight had struck again.

  “SVEN!” KRISTOFF CRIED, holding up his friend, whose head lolled so low to the ground that his antlers skimmed the frost-covered grass.

  Sven let out a rumbling groan, and the sound squeezed the breath out of Anna’s lungs. No—not Sven. He’d been fine only an hour ago!

  “Mint,” Elsa said faintly, and when Anna turned to look at her sister, she saw that Elsa looked as shaken as she herself felt. “SoYun said that mint helped Hebert, and it was effective with the goats I saw the other day, too.”

  “The botanist’s shop!” Anna said, tearing her eyes away from Kristoff’s devastated expression and looking out at the village below them. “Gabriella always has mint in her shop! And if that doesn’t work, Baker Blodget—”

  “It’ll work,” Elsa said, cutting in firmly. “I was there earlier to ask about herbal remedies, but no one was home,” she added. “She must be back by now.”

  With that, they ran down the path to the village, Kristoff keeping a hand on Sven the entire time while Anna’s eyes remained fixed on the homes and shops ahead. The sooner they could evacuate the villagers, the sooner they could come up with a plan for how to defeat both the Blight and the wolf.

  How much bad luck could a single kingdom have at once?

  But it could be far worse. Anna knew that. Sven was still in the early stages of the Blight, after all. He could be doubling over in pain, he could be falling over, plunging into that unshakable sleep that would leave him unable to run from the wolf’s teeth.

  The wolf. Did it have anything to do with the Blight? Anna remembered the way Sven had stood still in the kitchen as the wolf stalked toward him, as if those yellow eyes had pinned him in place. But that didn’t make sense. The Blight came before the wolf, but maybe the wolf had so terrified Sven—had so rattled him to his reindeer core—that his body’s defenses had been jostled enough for the Blight to settle in and begin to creep through Sven like a thorny, resilient weed.

  But at least Sven was moving. He was still strong enough to trot, and he carried Olaf on his back, the snowman holding his own carrot nose in front of the reindeer’s muzzle on a string to keep Sven awake and motivated. Anna wished that she had something as simple as a carrot to cheer up Kristoff.

  When she’d first met Kristoff, she’d thought he was just a perpetual grump, but as she spent more time with him, she realized that he was someone who loved to laugh and wore a smile easily. Now, though, she could see the solitary mountain man slowly returning. Worry carved lines into his face and his mouth tugged down.

  Anna slowed to a walk and slipped her hand into his. “Hey. It’ll be okay. I promised we’d fix this mess in three days, and we will. Wolf and all.”

  Kristoff shook his head, brown eyes troubled. “I just don’t understand what’s happening. First the Blight, and then I couldn’t find the trolls, and then—”

  “Wait, what?” Anna gasped. “What do you mean, you couldn’t find the trolls?”

  “They weren’t in the Valley of the Living Rock, and they didn’t leave behind any message,” Kristoff explained. He shrugged carelessly, but Anna could see the tension in his broad shoulders. “They’re mysterious creatures, I get it, but they usually at least leave me snail mail.” Snail mail, as Anna knew from experience, was notes written on the bottom of leaves with the help of friendly forest snails. They tended to be a bit difficult to read, and very, very sticky.

  “Have they ever done that before?” Anna asked, but before Kristoff could answer, Sven’s head jerked up, his ears swiveling forward.

  Kristoff dropped Anna’s hand. “What is it, boy?”

  But Anna thought she knew, as a soft, far-off wailing met their ears. It almost sounded like the wind, mournful and ghostly, but the pitch of it sent a rush of goosebumps cascading across Anna’s arms. Because it was not the wind. This was an utterly human sound—and it was coming from the village.

  “No,” Elsa breathed, and Anna felt sick again. They sprinted the rest of the way.

  The village of Arendelle curved around the harbor, balancing along the bay like a flock of birds ringing the edge of a birdbath. Anna had always taken pride in the village’s vibrant homes, painted with bright splashes of color and trimmed with exquisite detail. Many villagers liked to add personal touches that matched the personality of those living inside—and Anna knew and loved each and every one of them. There hadn’t been one week in the last three years that she hadn’t made a trip into the village, even on the days when Elsa wasn’t able to join her.

  On a usual morning, the villagers woke early, gathering fresh loaves of bread for
breakfast and exchanging news from the previous day. Anna much preferred the village to the castle, and she loved having friends. Friends like Baker Blodget, who always had a spare basket of fresh butter biscuits to share with the children—and, occasionally, Anna. Or Akim, the seamster who was deft with the knitting needles and had made Anna her very own hat with cat ears. And then there were the three sisters, Supriya, Deepa, and Jaya, who couldn’t wait to see Anna every week to discuss the latest books they’d read and turned into a play.

  That was how a usual morning looked. But this was not a usual morning. Not at all. The cobblestoned streets were empty of people, but full of their screams. Before the wolf had entered the castle, it must have attacked the village.

  “NO—” Anna began to yell, but Elsa put a hand over her mouth, stifling her cry.

  “Shhh.” Elsa pointed to a window. Peering inside, Anna saw Madam Eniola fast asleep, her nightcap askew on her gray hair. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open in a bloodcurdling scream. And Anna knew deep in her bones that if Madam Eniola’s eyes were to flutter open, they would be as bright yellow as the wolf’s. Like what happened to Kai and Gerda.

  “If we provoke them,” Elsa whispered, “I think they’ll attack us.”

  Anna nodded, sensing that her sister was right. “We just need to get some mint leaves for Sven,” she whispered. “Then we can go.”

  “We don’t split up,” Elsa said, looking each of them in the eye and taking Olaf’s hand. “We stay together, we stay silent, and we keep moving.” Spoken like a true leader.

  They moved through the cobblestoned paths toward the market. Anna shuddered as they rounded every corner. Though there was no one in the streets, she had the constant feeling that someone was watching—as if all the windows were eyes staring at them.

  Or as though a wolf were in the shadows, just waiting to pounce.

  But, Anna assured herself, Elsa had sealed off the castle. The wolf, her nightmare wolf, was trapped inside, contained until Anna could figure out a better plan. Once they got help for the exhausted Sven—who now lifted each hoof as though it were heavy as a boulder—Anna would figure out a way to sneak back into the castle and read through each and every book in the hidden room, page by page, searching for a counter spell. There had to be one, even if she couldn’t remember having seen one. And if the counter spell’s runes hadn’t yet been translated…well, then she would just have to figure out how to decode the language, even if it took her twenty years.